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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129994">Pink Lace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreink91/pseuds/spectreink91'>spectreink91</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bareback Sex, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Combat Medicine, Cuddles, Deadpool freaks out and saves the day, Established Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, M/M, Memory hurts, Nightmares, Non-Explicit Rape, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker coming out, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker is of Age, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sappy, Sexual Frustration, Sexual longing, Stabbing, Sweet Wade, Tags will be updated as chapters are posted, Tender cuddles, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade Wilson is so tender, Wish Fulfillment, top surgery, transgender sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:41:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreink91/pseuds/spectreink91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker (Spider-Man) is desperately fighting against childhood trauma that he hasn’t dealt with, until he ends up in a panic attack that nearly has him falling from a building. His beloved boyfriend, Wade Wilson (Deadpool), is worried sick about him, and is trying to clear a space for his beloved Spidey Baby but is having a hard time helping when Peter won’t let him in. Peter wants to tell him, but is terrified of what the love of his life will think of him after he tells him.</p><p>Both supers are faced with the wounds and traumas in the other that they aren’t able to fix, but that they can face together for the long road ahead.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There isn’t really a place to put this, but Peter is 25/26 and Wade is 34/35.</p><p>Yes, there is a Rape/Non-con warning, but I promise it’s never explicitly described. But it is talked about, and is the catalyst for poor Petey’s meltdowns. There is also going to be a lot of talk about gender dysphoria and PTSD. Please read the tags carefully with this one. I’ll also update those tags as I go and post trigger warnings when necessary. </p><p>Enjoy! ❤️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Spidey...?”</p><p>His fingers pressed harder and the bricks cracked under his hands, suit slick with sweat and mask damp and wrinkled from hyperventilating. </p><p>He didn’t know why it happened, now, all of a sudden. But now that he remembered, he couldn’t stop. It was good ol’ Parker luck that he’d been mid-Spidey climb up the side of his apartment building when it happened. </p><p>Hands and feet cemented to the wall, Peter was unable to think about anything but his labored breathing and the shooting spikes of fear up his neck and down his spine. </p><p>“Spidey, honey—“</p><p>He hadn’t turned, but Wade leaned far enough over the roof edge that he could see his black leather glove reached in front of him. </p><p>It’s not like Peter wanted to let go and fall, but he didn’t want to move, either. </p><p>He shook his head no, the rough brick catching on the back of his mask. </p><p>“I just want you on solid ground, baby—that’s all.”</p><p>Something in Wade’s tone cut through the haze and he flickered his eyes up.</p><p>“Wade—“ he breathed, grabbing Deadpool’s arm as his limbs unstuck and his strength gave out. </p><p>If Wade hadn’t pulled him in tight and hard against his chest, safe on the rooftop, Peter would’ve fallen. </p><p>He shuddered. </p><p>He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to catch himself before he hit the street. </p><p>“What happened, Peter?” the merc asked shakily, tears softening his rough voice. </p><p>“Please—“ Peter coughed, choking and gagging. He buried his head into the warm leather of Deadpool’s chest. “Don’t ask me yet.”</p><p>Wade picked him up, wrapping Peter’s legs around his waist, nuzzling Peter’s cheek when he burrowed into his neck and cuddled into him, seeking further shelter. </p><p>“What do you need, sweetheart?”</p><p>Peter shook his head, the thought of anything outside of these arms, this chest, this gravelly voice, filling him with a terror he’d never felt before. </p><p>“You,” Peter whimpered. “Just you.”</p><p>Wade squeezed tighter and only moved when he pulled open the roof door to walk down the stairs to their apartment. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Peter lay essentially catatonic, curled up on their couch with his favorite red fuzzy blanket, the color exact to Deadpool’s crimson and the one he clung to on the days when Wade was away on a job. </p><p>The merc was busy in the kitchen, whipping up a ridiculous amount of pancakes and bacon and sausage, and even though Peter had no appetite, the smells comforted him. </p><p>His heart ached, though. </p><p>Wade always cooked up a storm when he was worried or upset. </p><p>“Wade.”</p><p>He wasn’t listening, too busy humming (Peter wondered if Wade even realized he was humming an off-key version of The Amazing Spider-Man), and whisking into the bowl of his fourth batch of chocolate chip pancakes. </p><p>Peter pushed higher up on his elbows and called over the couch, “Boy, these clothes are getting AWFUL hot. Wonder if someone could help me out of them?”</p><p>The merc’s eyes darted upright with an intrigued noise of surprise from his lips. </p><p>Peter chuckled. </p><p>“You’re so predictable, babe,” he grinned. </p><p>Wade smiled, eyes warm and worried. </p><p>“Hungry yet?”</p><p>Peter shook his head. “Not yet.”</p><p>“Mind if I eat?” Wade asked as he put down the bowl and pulled his HelloKitty apron over his head. </p><p>“Go ahead,” Peter replied. “Just let me rest in your lap.”</p><p>Wade’s eyes softened. “Twist my arm, why don’t ya.” </p><p>He hung his apron on the hook by the fridge and quickly plated a hearty serving of bacon, sausage, and a leaning tower of banana, blueberry, and chocolate chip pancakes, dripping with syrup. </p><p>Wade stopped mid-step, bacon hanging from his mouth, when Peter pointed to the towel rack on the front of the oven. </p><p>“Grab one of those so you don’t drip syrup on my head.” </p><p>“Aw, I thought you liked the sticky stuff?”</p><p>Peter snorted, and loved, yet again, how Wade was able to make him laugh and smile and blush when he felt like absolute shit. </p><p>Wade grabbed the Spider-Man towel obviously made for a six year old boy’s bathroom and hung it on his arm like a waiter as he speared his pancakes with his fork and licked the tips of his fingers. </p><p>Peter tugged himself upright to give Wade room to sit and happily settled on his boyfriend’s lap, Wade draping the towel over Peter’s forehead and setting his plate on the arm of the couch. </p><p>Digging into his feast, Wade ate as unfettered and unabashedly as he ever had, though Peter knew better than to think he was as calm as he acted. </p><p>He was waiting for Peter to bring it up first, and loved him all the more for it. </p><p>A spike of hunger shot through Peter’s gut and he glanced under the edge of the towel to make sure Wade wasn’t going to stab him with the fork if he took a piece of sausage off his plate. Not that it would’ve been intentional; Wade had as many issues with defensive reflexes as Peter did, and with far more reason. </p><p>He’d safely procured a sausage and was halfway through eating it when Wade mumbled, “No, I’m not making him get his own plate—he’s welcome to eat whatever he wants.”</p><p>Peter felt a fresh wave of pain pulse through his chest. Wade’s boxes talked incessantly, but he didn’t usually respond to them out loud unless they were getting really nasty. </p><p>“Fuck off, Yellow. And White, you can join him.” </p><p>Wade chuckled. “That never works, babe.”</p><p>Peter shrugged. “It’s worth a try.” </p><p>He lifted Wade’s free hand from where it nestled on his hip and kissed his knuckles. </p><p>“Feeling any better?” Wade asked, barely a whisper. </p><p>He nodded. “A little.” When Wade inhaled to speak again, Peter quickly clarified, “Still not ready to talk about it, though.” </p><p>Wade stroked Peter’s mouth and set down his fork, tossing aside the towel and tucking the blanket tighter around Peter. </p><p>“Finish eating, babe,” Peter murmured, waving to the still-full plate. “I’m fine as long as you stay here with me.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” </p><p>Then Peter realized why Wade asked. </p><p>He always seemed to know when Peter’s anxiety was picking up, even before he did. </p><p>He nodded, ignoring the rising heart rate in his chest and the flush in his cheeks as his arms shook. </p><p>Great. He was having another panic attack. </p><p>“Find your colors, baby,” Wade’s reassuring voice urged in his ear. </p><p>His fork and plate were now on the coffee table and Wade was pulling Peter to his favorite place on his chest. </p><p>“Should I say them out loud?” Peter whimpered, breaths coming short and sharp. </p><p>Wade kept his hands on the safe place between Peter’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. </p><p>“I’ll list them, you tell me where you find them.”</p><p>Peter bit his lip, eyes welling with tears as he nodded. </p><p>“O—okay.”</p><p>“Alright...deep breath in...”</p><p>He inhaled. </p><p>“And out.”</p><p>The exhale made him feel a lot worse, as it usually did, but Wade distracted him by saying,</p><p>“Find me some red, baby.”</p><p>Peter swallowed and pointed to the Spider-Man towel on the coffee table. “There—my cheesy likeness.”</p><p>Wade chuckled. “Okay, orange.”</p><p>That one was harder, but Peter nodded with triumph to the bag of Reese’s tucked behind the Xbox for their gaming marathons. </p><p>Wade smiled and cuddled him closer, Peter relieved at the tension starting to ease up in his chest. </p><p>They continued with the colors, yellow the packing sticker on a box by their recycling pile, green the pants Wade was wearing, and blue the Spider-Man towel again. </p><p>But when they got to purple, Peter started to panic and fidget again. There were so many colors around, and that was the one he couldn’t find. </p><p>Dammit. He needed this color. Just one fucking color. </p><p>“Petey, it’s okay!” Wade cooed, rubbing his thumbs between his shoulders. “We’ll just go back to red.” </p><p>But it was too late—Peter started hyperventilating again, on the verge of passing out, when Wade pulled him flush to his chest and captured his mouth with his, gently, sweetly, tenderly, coaxing from him the intimate companionship and understanding Peter felt more clearly in their kisses than anywhere else. A full minute passed before Wade pulled back, both of them trembling and flushed. </p><p>Their hips rutted against each other and he knew it was taking every bit of Wade’s strength to hold back. </p><p>“Wade, hun, I—I can’t.”</p><p>He smiled knowingly. “I know. It’s okay.” </p><p>He kissed him again, sweetly, and settled back into the pillow, reaching for the remote next to his plate and turning on Friends. </p><p>“We can watch Golden Girls,” Peter said, exhaling long and slow as settled his head under Wade’s chin. </p><p>“But you were watching Friends earlier,” Wade replied. </p><p>He was; it was his distraction from the world when he needed a break. But Wade had been through far more tonight than he was admitting; Peter knew almost nothing made Wade as upset as Peter in any kind of distress—once when a fight left Peter unconscious on the sidewalk, Wade went ballistic and started ripping off the bad guys’ fingers, and was only stopped from blowing their heads off when Peter woke up and webbed Wade’s gun to the wall behind him. </p><p>Peter kissed Wade’s chest and took the remote, turning on The Golden Girls and scooting the coffee table closer. </p><p>He stretched his hand out, grabbing the fork and clumsily hacking into the pile of pancakes. </p><p>He hovered the loaded utensil near Wade’s mouth and said, “Open wide!” </p><p>Wade chuckled, obediently taking the bite. After the second, he said, “Please eat some, too, Baby Boy.”</p><p>Despite his exhaustion, Peter was hungrier than before and nodded, eating the next dripping bite. </p><p>Three episodes later and all the food but a quarter piece of bacon cleared off the plate, Peter was falling asleep on Wade’s chest. </p><p>The merc carried him to their room and laid him on the bed, fluffing up the pillow behind him and tucking the sheet around him. </p><p>“Do you want your weighted blanket, Petey?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Peter mumbled, warm and hazy and finally, totally relaxed. </p><p>He dimly wondered, as the welcomed comfort of the extra weight sunk him further into the mattress, why Wade didn’t strip off the Spider-Man suit. Maybe he guessed more at what had happened than Peter realized. </p><p>“Goodnight, Peter,” Wade’s quiet words whispered as the edge of his lips brushed his forehead. “I love you.”</p><p>“Mmm...love you...too.”</p><p>Before he could open his eyes to see if Wade was still as worried as before, he fell asleep. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>When Peter woke the next morning, he rubbed his hands over his face without thinking and winced. He removed his gloves and focused tired eyes on the purple bruises on his fingertips, wondering what kind of dents he must’ve left on the side of the building if he still had bruises despite his healing factor.</p><p>Wade wasn’t beside him, but that wasn’t surprising. He didn’t sleep very much during the night, and often caught cat naps during the day. Partially due to his illness, his healing factor, and the psychological remains of his torture, it was difficult to keep him in one place for long when he needed to sleep. Which is why they went all out when they first moved in together to have the comfiest couches imaginable. </p><p>He stood and shed his suit, wriggling in the fresh air on his skin and walking naked to the shower. Turning on the spout and ducking his head in, he’d just found the perfect temperature between hot and cold when his body shivered and he heaved, last night’s memories kicking him in the gut and leaving him coughing and gasping for breath. </p><p>He would have tried to call out Wade’s name in between chokes but fortunately, Wade walked in and dove into the shower fully-clothed and pulled him out, wrapping Peter’s trembling body with his arms. </p><p>He must’ve looked worse than he thought because Wade fussed over him with coos and gentle scolds, returning him to the bed wrapped in a towel and his own warm arms. </p><p>“Baby, you almost took a nose dive off the roof last night! I don’t think the shower’s a safe place by yourself today.”</p><p>Peter sighed, still trying to calm his breathing. “I just felt sticky and gross. And it’s a much shorter drop to the bathroom floor.”</p><p>That didn’t go over as funny as Peter hoped, and when he met Wade’s eye, he started crying. </p><p>“I don’t mean to worry you so much...I really don’t.”</p><p>Wade shushed him and tugged him to lay on his chest, and Peter wept there for a while, not able to even pretend to care that he was probably late for work and ruining whatever plans Wade had that morning. </p><p>When he’d cried himself out, he sat up and wiped his hands across his eyes, ignoring the rush of goosebumps from the air in the room and returning to the cocoon of Wade’s arms. </p><p>“Baby...talk to me. Please.” </p><p>Peter turned on his side, not wanting to meet the whirlpool of blue eyes that reminded him of everything he didn’t deserve. He nestled into Wade’s shoulder, not wanting to make him think he was mad. He wasn’t mad—not at him, at least. </p><p>As they often did, Wade’s fingers traced their way over the almost-forgotten scars of Peter’s top surgery, and Peter let out a slow, shivered breath. </p><p>There was nothing more he wanted than to pin Wade to the bed and ride him until hunger or exhaustion won out.</p><p>Fighting the urge to web himself to the wall and out of the room, he turned and took Wade’s hand, fiddling with the tips of his fingers. </p><p>“Was yesterday a D Day, Petey?” Wade asked quietly. </p><p>The “D” stood for dysphoria. Peter hated saying the word, so that was the abbreviation they used.</p><p>The last time he asked him that, Peter webbed him to the wall without thinking and left him there for an hour before guilt won out over irrational anger and he cut him down. He must be more worried than Peter gave him credit for. </p><p>“I’m hungry,” he murmured, feeling keenly the pain he caused Wade by ignoring his question. </p><p>He just couldn’t tell him yet. </p><p>Wade sighed and stood, tossing on Peter’s brown bathrobe (he wore it more than Peter did) and walked back to the bedside, kissing Peter’s forehead. </p><p>“Please stay in bed,” Wade said firmly, tucking the comforter tighter around him, as though that would help to keep him still. “I’ll bring you breakfast, okay?” </p><p>Peter nodded, eyes burning. He hated hurting him. </p><p>He pulled his arm out from the blanket and grabbed onto Wade’s arm. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Wade,” he murmured, lip trembling and embarrassment making his cheeks burn. “Please don’t be mad at me.”</p><p>Wade’s brows met and he exhaled, sitting beside him. </p><p>“Petey,” he murmured, stroking the bangs out of his eyes, hand lingering along his cheek. “I’m not mad. Not even a little. I’m just worried, that’s all.” </p><p>Peter leaned into the touch, relieved that it comforted him instead of scaring him. </p><p>“Please get back into bed, Wade,” Peter whispered, trying to sound seductive but just sounding tired. </p><p>“Petey Pie...” Wade shut his eyes, swallowing hard. “Unless I’ve lost all my powers of observation, I don’t think hanky panky would be the best idea right now.” </p><p>He shuddered as Peter sat up and wrapped his arm around him. </p><p>“I don’t want to hurt you,” Wade begged, arm tensing as he wrapped it around Peter’s waist. </p><p>“You won’t,” Peter whispered, kissing Wade’s cheek and tugging him closer. </p><p>Wade groaned as he untangled their arms and pulled back with a pained exhale, eyes pressed tight as he shook his head. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Baby Boy...not this morning.” He opened his eyes and attempted a smile that tore Peter in half. “Let me make you a breakfast that’ll be almost as good as sex, and we’ll see how the day goes, okay?”</p><p>Peter nodded, trying so hard not to cry in front of him. </p><p>Wade kissed his forehead and again and left, leaving the door halfway open. </p><p>Peter broke down in tears, curling around his pillow and fighting the urge to scream. </p><p>What if Wade left him, when he told him? </p><p>It was only a matter of time. </p><p>It wasn’t his fault, what happened—but it never stopped fucking with him. </p><p>Wade thought the world of him—Peter didn’t want that to change, with either disgust or pity, whenever he did tell him. </p><p>He knew he wouldn’t have a choice, though. He could feel in his bones that the nightmares would start again, and he wouldn’t be able to hide those.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two years previous, Peter comes out to the Avengers, and to Wade, each in vastly different circumstances, and finds hope for a future in being loved for himself that he didn’t have before.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’ve added tags for violence, but I promise it’s not more than basic comic book violence. But just to be safe, I updated it. </p><p>(FYI, the talk and descriptions of dysphoria are from my own experiences of being a trans man, so if anyone else has experienced other things, or hasn’t experienced this at all, I promise I describe Petey’s struggles from what I know of my own. 💙💖🤍)</p><p>Though I’ve tried my hardest to keep this as in-world and in-character as possible, I will be the first to admit this is shameless wish-fulfillment fluff. And I don’t regret a single word of it. </p><p>And also it’s long af. But I couldn’t help myself, and I couldn’t bear to cut it up into two chapters. </p><p>Also, GOD I LOVE THESE TWO. 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️</p><p>Enjoy! 😘</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Two Years Before</em>
</p><p>There wasn’t a single day that Peter regretted coming out.  </p><p>Not after living a drowning lie for so long. </p><p>Dysphoria was a bitch—a constant out of body experience. </p><p>Like perpetually gasping for air, tethered (but just barely) to the frame of his body as he walked, ate, dressed, spoke. </p><p>Before he came out (and before the spider bit him), he would lock himself in a bathroom stall just to whisper his real name...to remind himself who he really was. </p><p>A brief moment of air in hours of suffocation. </p><p>The fateful high school trip that led to his spider bite was, ironically, the first day he wore his binder. Once he’d changed and adapted and had gotten used to his powers, he thought it hysterical that the first night, he thought the physical pangs and tingles and stretching was only because he was adjusting to the tight material over his chest. </p><p>After he got his powers, it didn’t make sense to stay closeted. Not with so much at stake. </p><p>Peter’s coming out wasn’t nearly as traumatic as he’d expected—but then again, he didn’t have many people to come out to. </p><p>Aunt May knew—because of course she knew—and made him a blue, pink, and white afghan to keep on his bed in his apartment in celebration, lavishing on him all the love and affection for his new name and identity that Peter was overwhelmed by, and utterly grateful for. </p><p>He told Uncle Ben, in his own way, many years before. Peter was 11 when he’d gone to him in his study in tears, saying that the boys at school were making fun of him because they didn’t want to play with girls. </p><p>Without missing a beat, Uncle Ben replied, “Then tell them you’re not. And don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.”</p><p>He was stunned, and only smiled sheepishly before his uncle pulled him in for a tight hug. </p><p>Peter hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Uncle Ben about it again, before he died...but he’d never forgotten that night. </p><p>MJ was fabulous about it, decorating his locker with stickers, and Ned made the most hilarious dirty jokes that split Peter’s sides for days. </p><p>Telling the Avengers was its own adventure, mostly because half of them knew already. </p><p>The ones who didn’t know, Peter tried to tell individually so that he didn’t overwhelm them, and that way if there were any less savory reactions, it wouldn’t interfere with the team dynamic that they all had come to depend on.</p><p>Natascha knew before most of them because Peter asked her for advice on dealing with his period while wearing his suit, and she was more than happy to give all her tips and tricks she’d learned over the years. </p><p>Mr. Rogers stared at him, slow and attentive, and then burst into the largest grin. </p><p>“One of the few things that’s better about this decade,” he said as he pulled Peter into a hug. “Seeing people able to be themselves. I’m proud of you, kid.” </p><p>Pepper knew but acted surprised anyway, slipping him a custom pen with his name engraved in gold. She held him especially long, and Peter teared up in her embrace. No one gave hugs quite like she did (though she would be the last to admit to the affection). </p><p>Peter told Mr. Stark one night over drinks—since he’d turned 21, it was one of his favorite things, to sit with Mr. Stark after a long week at the lab, or after a particularly rough patrol, and exchange stories and listen to advice and just hear all of the things Mr. Stark accomplished before Iron Man, and after. </p><p>Peter cleared his throat several times after telling him, and Mr. Stark’s expression stilled before he spoke. </p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me before, kid?” he asked. When Mr. Stark raised his head, Peter felt the guilt of the world topple over on him. “I could’ve done so much more for you, had I known. Made your suit easier to maintain with your packer, have a built-in binder for your chest...” He paused, brows furrowed, and he exhaled. “Which is why you didn’t tell me, huh?” He smiled a knowing smile. “You didn’t want the special treatment.” </p><p>His smile helped Peter relax and he nodded in agreement. </p><p>“Yeah...not that everything you’ve given me already means any less...I hope that this doesn’t change anything. I still look up to you, and I still want to be apart of the team and I don’t know what I’d do without you guys and I promise this won’t change how hard I train or patrol or anything...”</p><p>He didn’t realize he was babbling until he started crying halfway through and couldn’t stop, and Mr. Stark stood him up and pulled him in for a hug. He wept against his chest for a long time, mortified when he pulled back and saw he’d gotten tears and snot all over what was no doubt a very expensive dress shirt. </p><p>“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter blubbered. </p><p>The older man smiled affectionately. “That’s what dry-cleaning is for, kid. Don’t worry about it. I’ve done far worse on my own.” </p><p>He brushed back the tear-wet bangs out of Peter’s eyes and pulled out a handkerchief from his suit jacket. Peter gratefully took it and wiped his face down, handing it back to him. </p><p>“I’m so proud of you, Peter,” Mr. Stark said. “And I’m honored you told me.”</p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Peter murmured, lip still trembling and his chest aching from the adrenaline dump. </p><p>Mr Stark smiled. “Don’t be. There was no rush. You’re still our spiderkid. And nothing will change that.” </p><p>Having that foundation in the Avengers, in a renewed way now, made the Tower even more of a home than it had been before. There were nights, crawling into his bed after a long, exhausting night, that he would cry in gratitude at finally being accepted, for everything—his powers and his identity. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>He’d been patrolling for about a year when he met Deadpool. </p><p>He laughed about it now, because the anti-hero drove him fucking crazy. For the first three weeks, it seemed like Deadpool was everywhere he was, until it became obvious that it wasn’t just a coincidence and that Spider-Man would have to deal with having a shadow. A shadow that knew every 90’s song and pop culture reference the way that Peter knew the elements on the Periodic Table, and who made some of the most creative sexual innuendos he’d ever heard. </p><p>Before Peter even realized it, Deadpool had become a very welcome part of his routine, and then something more. Not that T shots didn’t already make Peter horny all the frigging time, but being near Deadpool so much, when he was no longer annoying and actually quite attractive, and smart, and cunning, and funny as hell, and <em>fuck</em> had that chest, those arms, those abs, those thighs...He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that after a few months, all of his sexual fantasies surrounded the Merc with the Mouth...that nickname taking a very prominent place in his thoughts when he touched himself.</p><p>All the other supers knew he was trans, except Deadpool. And Peter found a new reason to lay awake at night in worry.</p><p>Maybe he was afraid that the adorable nicknames would change—Baby Boy was by far the cutest and most annoying thing he’d ever been called, and he fucking loved it—maybe it was that he forgot he wasn’t cis when ‘Pool drew him close on those cold winter nights to warm him up, and then insisting that Peter wore the hilariously ugly (and simultaneously adorable) Christmas sweater that Deadpool bought him that December.</p><p>Maybe he was afraid that Deadpool’s friendly interactions and seeming acceptance were a lie—Peter had run into that far more than he’d expected, and even years after the friendships ended, it still hurt. Though a small voice in the back of his mind hoped Deadpool of all people wouldn’t turn on him for being what he was, Peter was still afraid. </p><p>It didn’t help that he’d fallen desperately in love with the man. </p><p>Dammit. </p><p>What if Deadpool had a tolerance, an acceptance, for every other kind of weird shit except for trans? </p><p>It wasn’t uncommon that transgender reality threw normally accepting people into a tailspin of vile insults and hate speech—what if Spider-Man’s best friend became like that, too? </p><p>Because it was so nice, not being alone on patrol. It was so nice, not having to spend those waking hours in the middle of the night, when a particularly bad incident left him sobbing and he spent the waning hours until dawn texting with ‘Pool and FaceTiming with him as they watched the same YouTube videos on their tv’s until Peter fell asleep. </p><p>God, he couldn’t lose him. </p><p>Peter didn’t know if he could handle it. </p><p>The thing was, he felt like himself—he didn’t feel like he needed his packer, his binder, his harried excuses when his period decided to make its ugly appearance once every few months—when he was with ‘Pool. </p><p>He was almost sure the love interest wasn’t one-sided, either—God knows Peter craved and dreamt and wished more than he should for ‘Pool to “accidentally” brush his hand down Peter’s ass again, like he had when he was helping him up onto a rooftop after a rough fight left him exhausted. Or hold him in an especially long hug that Peter wondered did the same things to ‘Pool that it did to him. </p><p>But he also knew nothing in life was ever as simple as just confessing his love and expecting that same love back. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>It was a year after they met that ‘Pool gave Spider-Man his secret identity, signed in an adorably cheesy handmade anniversary card with a crayon-drawn version of Spider-Man hanging from his web and Deadpool beneath him, blowing kisses and tiny hearts up at him. </p><p>In black and red crayon, he’d written: </p><p>
  <em>To Spidey Baby—Love, Wade</em>
</p><p>It was the sweetest and cutest thing Peter had ever gotten from someone. </p><p>“One year since I’ve driven you crazy the first time!” Wade beamed through his red and black mask. “Happy Friendaversary!”</p><p>Before he could stop himself, Peter threw his arms around him and fought the tears filling his eyes.</p><p>“Happy anniversary, Wade,” Spider-Man murmured with a thick voice into his ear. “I’m so glad I know you.” </p><p>Deadpool’s arms tightened around him and Peter went limp in his arms as he cuddled into his neck, warmth tingling and spreading through his limbs down his groin like water, calming and soothing like balm.</p><p>God, he’d forgotten how good it felt to be held. </p><p><em>Please don’t let go</em>, Peter whimpered silently.</p><p>Wade pulled back with a long inhale. </p><p>“Baby Boy...”</p><p>Peter waited with baited breath, hoping, <em>aching</em> for what his next words would be. </p><p>“Yes, Wade?” Peter asked, hardly trusting his voice to speak.</p><p>But Deadpool shut his mouth, exhaled, and tweaked Spider-Man’s nose with his leather gloved fingers. </p><p>“You’re a gift to the world, Baby Boy,” he said. “Especially to me. And I’m glad I know you, too.”</p><p>Peter’s heart deflated, though he knew he had no real reason to feel so damn depressed. It wasn’t exactly a rejection, but it felt like one. </p><p>The rest of the night was spent with ice cream tacos and hot dogs, and in honor of their Friendaversary, Peter let Wade use his webshooters to take the merc home, and any heartache Spider-Man felt was worth it when he got to hear Deadpool hoot and holler and squeal like a little kid, totally enamored with joy. Peter would give every last cent he had, and every day for the rest of his life, to be able to hear that laugh again. To keep Wade happy forever. </p><p>When Spider-Man helped drop them both down into the balcony behind Wade’s apartment, he stopped ‘Pool from going inside with a gentle tug on his wrist. </p><p>“What is it, Baby Boy?” Wade asked, voice uncharacteristically serious. </p><p>Spider-Man looked from side-to-side to make sure they were unwatched and pulled off his mask with as fluid a motion as he could for how much his hands were shaking, and ducked his head to his feet. </p><p>“My name’s Peter,” he murmured, cheeks burning. “Peter Parker.”</p><p>Wade lifted Peter’s chin with one hand and took his own mask off with the other. </p><p>“God....you—are a wet dream walking,” Wade said, voice rough. “It’s...nice to meet you, Peter.” </p><p>Peter nodded, taken aback, as he always was when Wade showed his face, by how clear and sparkling and crystal Wade’s blue eyes were. </p><p>He opened his mouth to say so, but Wade just leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, the scars on the bow of his lip sending shivers down Peter’s chest. </p><p>He wanted those scars, those lips to graze across every inch of his body until he was sobbing for more. And then he wanted to return the favor so many times, Wade wouldn’t be able to look as sad as he did—so much of the time when he thought Peter wasn’t looking. </p><p>“Goodnight, Peter,” Deadpool murmured, turning and climbing through his open window and sliding it shut behind him. </p><p>He barely made it home for how hard he was sobbing, the wind making the tears soaking his mask feel like ice. He tripped into his bedroom and curled up on his bed, ripping off his mask and throwing it across the room, not bothering with his suit as he pulled the covers over his head. </p><p>His nose still tingled where Wade had touched him...where he’d kissed him. </p><p>...Could that be considered a kiss? </p><p>Wade would never want more. Because of his own past, because of the baggage of being a super, because of Spider-Man’s age, lack of experience, because of what he was. </p><p>Maybe Wade knew already. </p><p>Maybe he didn’t. </p><p>...It didn’t matter. </p><p>Peter would never have more. </p><p>That’s now how things worked out for him.</p><p>The gifted card safely locked in the side drawer of his desk, Peter curled up with his childhood teddy bear, and despite his chest still shaking and aching with pent up tears, he fell asleep. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Parker luck. </p><p>He fucking hated it. </p><p>It always reared its ugly head when Peter was the least prepared to deal with it. </p><p>Less than two weeks after their Friendaversary, Spider-Man and Deadpool were tag-teaming a high-stakes bank robbery, one of the only times the police wanted their help and allowed them to cooperate from a more aerial perspective to surveil what was going on in the alleys and on the rooftops. </p><p>The cops had most of the burglars cuffed and subdued after nearly 13 hours of hostage negotiation, but one had gotten loose and thought it a brilliant idea to try and climb up the side of the bank. </p><p>Spider-Man saw him first and shouted as much to Deadpool before bounding off the roof and webbing to swing through the alley and kick the robber off the fire escape to land flat on his back on the pavement. What he didn’t count on was the robber landing himself back on his feet with a flip and a grunt, and whipping out what looked like a samurai blade to defend himself. </p><p>Before Peter could even begin to be surprised at what was turning into anything but the typical scumbag takedown, the robber kicked off of one foot and spun around with the other, slicing over Spider-Man’s left side before the super was able to deflect the next hit and flip himself up onto a fire escape above him. </p><p>He fell to his knees, the pain far more than he expected and he huffed for breath, barely managing to focus his sight enough to web the robber to the concrete.  </p><p>How many times had he dodged bullets and knives with a few swift punches and his handy webbing. </p><p>But a samurai sword? <em>Really?</em></p><p>He reeled backward and groaned as he tried to crawl up the brick wall, falling back onto the landing. </p><p>Oh, <em>fuck</em>. </p><p>It <em>really</em> hurt now. </p><p>A fierce burn that stole what little breath was left in his lungs. The wound wasn’t fatal but wasn’t shallow, either, and he was bleeding fast through the cut in his suit, the edge of his binder visible through the tear.</p><p>He opened his mouth to call for Deadpool, for the cops just a half block away, for anyone, but all that came out was a squeak as his binder tightened around him, and he cursed his trans body for the millionth time and gripped the railing with his free hand, the other pressed to his side, blood seeping through his clenched fingers. </p><p>“Baby Boy!” Deadpool screeched through the haze of shock and the clamor of police sirens and shouting voices. </p><p>Peter tried to reply and felt bile rise in his throat. Swallowing with a wince, he leaned over the side of the railing and webbed the robber’s arm to this side when his Spidey-sense kicked in at the reflection of a ninja star in his hand. </p><p>He lost time after that, hunched on his knees, forehead pressed against the rail, chest trembling and side aching and blood soaking the side of his suit. </p><p>Could he die from this? </p><p>It hadn’t felt that deep. </p><p>Maybe he was wrong. </p><p>“Spidey!”</p><p>Peter sobbed when he heard the merc’s voice below him, metal creaking as Deadpool lunged over the side and gathered him into his arms. </p><p>“Wade—“ Spider-Man gasped. “God, Wade, it hurts...” </p><p>“I know, baby. We’re gonna get you fixed up.” </p><p>Spider-Man still had his eyes shut but he keened in both pain and relief when Deadpool picked him up bridal style and cuddled him against his chest. </p><p>“C’mon, we gotta get out of here. We don’t want the police or paramedics gettin’ to ya.” </p><p>His insides clenched for a new reason at this fear and he nodded veraciously.  </p><p>“T-take me to the Tower—“</p><p>“No, honey, you won’t make it that far. The more you bleed, the worse off you’ll be. I have a safe house close...you’ll be okay, I promise.”</p><p>“‘Pool—“ he gasped, the entire side of his body screaming in pain. </p><p>“Don’t worry, sweetie—I know my combat meds. I’ll get you fixed up.” </p><p>Peter gripped the straps on the front of Deadpool’s suit, swaying and gasping for breath. </p><p>“W-Wade—“</p><p>There was metal clanging and wood breaking and Peter was vaguely aware that Wade had broken into the apartment behind the fire escape, but was so dizzy and in so much pain, he didn’t care. </p><p>“Stay with me, baby,” Deadpool begged. “I’ve got you. I promise, I’ve got you.” </p><p>He didn’t remember anything else—his face tucked tight into Wade’s neck, he passed out. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Peter woke to a light shining in his face and the sound of scissors cutting through fabric. </p><p>He panicked, shouting and screaming and cursing, until he saw that the scarred, muscular arm that held him down was Wade’s. </p><p>But then he realized the scissors were snipping through his binder. </p><p>“Wade...Wade—!” he gasped, tugging and pulling on Wade’s arm as his eyes filled with tears. </p><p>“Shhhh.....you’re gonna feel a little woozy—gave you some morphine, just enough to make sure I could stitch you up without hurtin’ ya. And once I get this off, I’ll give you a numbing shot, too.” </p><p>Wade wasn’t wearing his mask, and Peter was so glad. Being able to see his eyes, to see the concern and attention on his face made Peter feel much calmer than he would be otherwise.</p><p>Peter felt down his side, hand coming across hastily cut gauze, the edges rough and frayed and sticking out at odd angles from the medical tape that held it down. Though the bleeding had slowed, he could still feel it soaking through.</p><p>The scissors snipped again, and the last elastic on the binder gave, and Peter gasped in relief and utter panic, shutting his eyes tight, tears rolling down his cheeks as his bare chest was exposed and the skin on his breasts tingled. </p><p>“I’m so sorry about your binder, baby,” Wade murmured, hand covering his eyes. “I promise I’ll buy you a new one.” </p><p>“Fuck,” he wept. “Wade...”</p><p>He started bawling, wincing and crying harder at the pain the reflexive action caused in his chest and side. </p><p>Wade drew Peter upright and held him to his chest as he sobbed. </p><p>“I can find something to cover your chest while we do this...” Wade’s voice was thick. “I don’t want to force you into anything, but I’ve gotta stitch you up.” </p><p>Peter shut his eyes, the pain making another appearance in a fugue tingle in his side and he shook his head. </p><p>“I don’t care—it’s you—it’s you...I’ve wanted you to—“ He stopped, face flushing and mouth aching as he bit his lip. “I was going to tell you—I was—I promise I was—“</p><p>“Shhhh...Petey Pie, you don’t have to explain anything...it’s me, remember? Now, lay back for me, okay?” </p><p>He was so gentle, so soft, so tender with his touch and his voice, Peter couldn’t help but obey, only just realizing that there was a pillow under his head. </p><p>“Deep breath in...”</p><p>Peter obeyed. </p><p>“And out.”</p><p>As he exhaled, the sharp prick of a needle stung his side just below his bandage. </p><p>“Now we’ll wait a couple minutes for it to take and I’ll stitch you up,” Wade said, cupping Peter’s cheek and keeping his eyes on his face the whole time. “You’re lucky, and so is that asshole. The wound isn’t too deep. I don’t have to kill him, and you won’t have more than a ghost of a scar.” </p><p>Peter took his hand and held tight onto it, stroking his knuckles with his thumb and lip trembling as they held eyes. </p><p>“Wade...” he stuttered, tugging his hand closer, wanting to tuck it under his chin. </p><p>The merc smiled affectionately. “I’ll need both hands for this, Petey...but I’m more than happy to hold your hand after that...if you’d like...”</p><p>Wade’s eyes flitted away but Peter tugged on his wrist, urging him to look at him again. </p><p>“Yes, please...”</p><p>Peter let go and Wade brushed his warm thumb across Peter’s lip and even despite the pain and the exhaustion and the shock, a shudder rolled through his chest and all the way down to his toes and he shivered. </p><p>Wade’s brows met in concern and he rummaged in a duffle bag on the chair next to him. After a minute of searching, he pulled out a faded, army green t-shirt and laid the material over Peter’s chest. </p><p>“There,” Wade murmured, voice timid. “Now you won’t be as cold. I promise it won’t be much longer.”</p><p>Something in the way he spoke filled Peter with a dread and panic that made him want to scream. </p><p>“Please don’t go—” he sobbed, chest heaving. </p><p>Wade’s eyes filled with tears, mouth open and eyes wide. He shoved aside the chair and pressed his lips to Peter’s, and Peter moaned in unutterable bliss and relief and <em>god</em>, fucking <em>joy</em> as their tongues lapped and wrestled and tasted each other. He cupped his hand on the back of Wade’s head to tug him closer as their mouths devoured one another and he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry at how this all happened. </p><p>“God, don’t ever do that again,” Wade said, warm tears dripping onto Peter’s cheeks. “Don’t just run off like that. Not when I can help—<em>fuck</em>, Baby Boy...if you died, I don’t know what I’d do...”</p><p>Peter stroked his cheek and kissed him again. </p><p>“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispered, their foreheads resting against each other. “I’ll communicate better next time.”</p><p>“And Tin Can is putting Kevlar in your next suit...if he doesn’t, I will.” </p><p>Peter chuckled and shut his eyes, crying again, but happier this time.</p><p>“I love you, Wade,” he whispered, keeping his eyes closed, just in case this was a dream. Just in case he was bleeding out on that fire escape and this was the universe’s way of screwing him over one last time before he died. </p><p>Wade cradled Peter’s head in his warm hand and kissed his cheek, his nose, his mouth, bending down to whisper in his ear,</p><p>“I fuckin’ love you, Baby Boy...I don’t care what parts ya got...I just care about you—and <em>god</em>, I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. And I’ve never stopped.” </p><p>Peter sobbed outright now, Wade shushing him gently and petting his hand through his hair, soothing him for a few minutes until he calmed and rested back in the pillow, hand held like a vice over Wade’s. </p><p>“Let me stitch you up, baby,” Wade cooed, the pet name making Peter’s insides melt with its new connotation. “And then we’ll cuddle and kiss and anything else you want, I promise.”</p><p>Peter nodded, yawning and curling into the pillow, raising his arm up over his head to give Wade better access to the wound. </p><p>“How ya feelin’, Peter?” Wade murmured, fingers ghosting gentle touches over the now-numb skin around his wound. </p><p>“...Good,” he replied, and meant it. “Go ahead, Wade. I trust you.” </p><p>Wade’s sharp intake of breath from that made Peter smile into the pillow, and he shut his eyes, letting himself focus on nothing but the touch of Wade’s hands, the brush of his warm palms in his shoulder as he opened his medic pack and sewed Peter up. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>At the Avengers Tower, after fussing over Peter in every possible way, Mr. Stark begrudgingly thanked Deadpool for saving him, patching him up, and bringing him to the Tower’s medical bay to make sure there wasn’t anything else that needed addressing. </p><p>Peter was wearing Deadpool’s army shirt on the way to the Tower, arms crossed tightly in front of him, but he found an oversized jacket in his locker to wear until he got home. Wade insisted that they could find a store in town to buy a new binder, but Peter said no, that he had another one in his apartment. And more than anything, he just wanted to go home. </p><p>So Deadpool took him home, insisting on paying the cab fare and even carrying Peter up to his apartment and into his room to make sure he didn’t pull on the stitches or exacerbate his injury. </p><p>As he tucked Peter under his covers, he lingered his hand along his jawline, making Peter’s lungs ache. </p><p>“Don’t forget to drink lots of water, okay?” Wade said, nodding to the plethora of water bottles he’d put on Peter’s bedside table. </p><p>Peter nodded and bit his trembling lip, every fiber of his being screaming to ask Wade to stay—but he’d already done so much for him. It wouldn’t be right to ask for more...even if the confession had been real. </p><p>Wade caressed his cheek with his thumb. </p><p>“What’s wrong, Baby Boy?”</p><p>He lifted his blanket and patted the empty space next to him. </p><p>“Stay with me?”</p><p>Peter shouldn’t have been surprised that Wade had HelloKitty pajamas stuffed in his duffel bag, but he’d never seen someone tear his way out of leather straps and buckles as fast as Wade did before curling up into the bed next to him. </p><p>“How’s your side, sweetums?” Wade asked as he wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders. </p><p>“Doesn’t hurt at all,” he replied, fighting tears of relief at laying his head in Wade’s shoulder and cuddling close to him. </p><p>“I love you, baby,” Wade murmured through a kiss on Peter’s forehead. </p><p>Peter’s shoulders shuddered as he started crying, again, letting his tears drip onto Wade’s chest. </p><p>“I love you, too,” he murmured, heavy lids tugging at his eyes, and before he could stop himself, he fell asleep. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Peter’s 25th birthday was at the end of the week. </p><p>It’d been only a few days since the blade incident, and as predictably as always, Peter’s nightmares made their appearance. </p><p>That first night Wade stayed with him, Peter flew out of bed and stuck himself to the corner of his ceiling, blind to Wade calmly talking to him below until he woke up and fell. </p><p>Wade caught him, and kissed him, and fussed over him, curled him close and made him breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and only let Peter out of bed to pee and to grab his textbooks for his work at the lab. </p><p>The second night, Peter woke up in the dark curled on Wade’s chest, saliva dripping from his mouth onto the merc’s HelloKitty T-shirt. He fell back asleep in the exact same spot, falling even more in love with Wade at the adorable way he snored. </p><p>The third night, Peter woke up to stifled cries from his closed bathroom door. Knocking gently, it opened to Wade sitting on the closed toilet seat, crying and sniffling, used tissues scattered over the sink and floor. </p><p>Wade tried to apologize and told him to go back to sleep, but Peter just kissed him, took his hand, and cuddled them under a blanket in front of his laptop, playing Golden Girls and penguin videos and unlikely animal friendships, Peter’s heart swelling at Wade falling into restful sleep, nestled on Peter’s shoulder. </p><p>The fourth night was Peter’s party at the Avengers Tower, and though Wade promised he’d be there, he said he had some errands to run and that he’d meet Peter there. </p><p>The party itself was amazing, as all Mr. Stark’s parties were, and though some parts of it were a bit over the top, playing video games with Bucky and Clint, and beating Thor at an obstacle course set around the house by crawling up the ceiling made it one of his best birthdays. </p><p>Peter saw with a racing heart that Wade had made it to the party in time for presents, and he’d just opened Aunt May’s gift—a handmade knit cap that looked just like his mask in yarn form—when Wade sat next to him. </p><p>His heart ached with affection for the man. Even though Wade wore his suit and mask whenever he went to the Tower because of the attention his scars got, he still drew eyes from all over the room, an uncomfortable silence settling in until Natascha clapped her hands and announced that more drinks would be served in the parlor. A number of people jumped up to follow her, Peter smiling at her in gratitude, her replying with a wink and a grin. </p><p>As Wade settled on the couch next to him, Peter squeezed his gloved hand. </p><p>“I’m so glad you’re here.”</p><p>Deadpool stroked his leather-covered thumb over Peter’s. </p><p>“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”</p><p>It took everything Peter had not to lift up Deadpool’s mask and kiss him for how grateful he was for his existence. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Presents opened, board games brought out, and Mr. Stark smoking everybody in Trivial Pursuit and Peter besting everybody in Jenga by hanging from the ceiling and using his Spidey-senses to make his choice, the party wound down into the late evening with movies and rooftop stargazing and digging into the cake and ice cream leftovers until most of the attendants were asleep on the couches or had gone back to their rooms in the Tower. </p><p>Wade stayed at Peter’s side the entire time, not playing much until MarioKart was suggested, he and Bucky shouting at the screen and both of them losing to each other multiple times before Bucky surrendered his title and wandered off to bed. </p><p>It was almost midnight when the house completely quieted down, Peter curled up on Wade’s shoulder while they watched The Princess Bride on Mr. Stark’s gigantic tv. </p><p>Pepper and Mr. Stark had gone to bed themselves, asking FRIDAY to lock the doors once Peter and Wade left, and it was so nice to feel so free, and so loved, Peter half-considered taking up Mr. Stark on his offer to take residence at the Tower, just so he wouldn’t have to give up this feeling yet. </p><p>“Petey?”</p><p>Eyes half-closed from sleepiness and comfort, Peter raised his head and kissed Wade’s chin. </p><p>“Mhmm?” </p><p>“I have a present for you, too,” he murmured, reaching into pocket and pulling out an envelope. </p><p>On the front of it was a red crayon web shaped into a heart, and under it was written: </p><p>
  <em>To Petey Pie</em>
</p><p>Peter’s grin quirked at the words as he opened it, unfolding the packet of paper inside it as Wade said, </p><p>“If you don’t want it, you don’t have to keep it...but I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted to give my Baby Boy.”</p><p>He started reading it, gasping halfway through the first paragraph. </p><p>It was a surgery estimate for a subcutaneous mastectomy, quoted to a Mr. Wade Wilson, a signed blank check paper-clipped to it with a note in the memo line reading, <em>For the hottest boy I know</em>.</p><p>He tried to clear his throat enough to speak and felt tears drip onto his hands. </p><p>“Oh my god...you’re paying for my top surgery?”</p><p>Wade cuddled closer, kissing the top of his head. </p><p>“Like I said, if this isn’t something you want right now, or aren’t ready for, I can definitely find something else.” </p><p>“Oh, Wade...” </p><p>He covered his shaking mouth with his hand and burrowed his head in Wade’s shoulder. </p><p>“You‘ve done a lot for me, Webs,” Wade murmured. “No better way for me to use the blood money I’ve gotten over the years. And no better person for me to give this gift to.” </p><p>He wanted to tell Wade thank you, that he loved him, that he didn’t deserve him, but couldn’t calm himself down enough to speak, so he just sobbed into Wade’s shoulder as the movie played on, Wesley and Buttercup leaning in for their famed movie kiss as Wade gave Peter his own. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Peter had brought his Spidey suit to change into after the party, knowing that after being around so many people at once, he’d need the release of swinging home. After changing and tugging Wade out the Tower doors and insisting he let Peter give him a ride home, he scanned the rooftops between webs until he found the perfect one and felt his heart race with excitement. </p><p>As Spidey let Deadpool go on the rooftop and shimmied down behind him, the merc turned to him in surprise and said, </p><p>“Webs, what are we doin’ here?”</p><p>Peter didn’t answer, just tore off his mask and threw it to the side, crowding Wade against the closed stairway door as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Wade immediately got the message and tugged off his own mask, slotting their mouths together and making Peter tremble and moan as he pressed his shaking hips against him. </p><p>“Holy fuck—“ Deadpool groaned. “You’re not wearing your packer—“ </p><p>Peter nodded desperately. </p><p>“I want you to fuck me, Wade...”</p><p>Wade’s eyes widened and his breaths came short and tight when Peter tugged Wade’s glove off with his teeth and lowered the bottom half of his suit, dragging Deadpool’s rough fingers through the wet lips of his groin. </p><p>“Do you want to? Oh please tell me you want to, please—“ Peter breathed hot against his ear, lips stinging and tingling and <em>god</em>, he needed Wade’s glorious mouth all over him right now.</p><p>Wade nodded and grunted and peeled Peter back far enough to undo his pants and breathed, </p><p>“Lube..?”</p><p>Peter shook his head, rocking his hips on Wade’s hand and crying out when his fingers finally breeched him. </p><p>“Can’t—I can’t wait—I’m wet enough for eight people—Get in me—please!”</p><p>Wade lifted Peter to wrap his legs around his waist, pressing him against the door and rocking slowly into him, Peter whining and grunting and sobbing with impatience until Wade was finally fully inside him. </p><p>That was when the dam broke, and Wade fucked him hard and fast, encouraged by Peter’s hearty groans and screams of pleasure, until Wade stilled and came inside him, collapsed against his trembling chest as Peter rubbed his fingers over his clit and came, too. </p><p>A few moments in silence passed, Peter stopping Wade from pulling out yet with a tight hug around his neck. </p><p>“Was I too rough?” Wade asked, searching eyes tight with worry. </p><p>Peter leaned back and shook his head, soothing his fingertips gently over the ridges of scars on Wade’s forehead, his brows, his cheekbones. “It was everything I wanted with you.” </p><p>“And we’ve got so much more to explore,” Wade chuckled, and despite everything, Peter still flushed. </p><p>Then Wade kissed him, soft, sweet, sated, and gazed up at him with those shimmering blue eyes, hands holding his cheeks. </p><p>“...Come home with me, Petey?”</p><p>And Peter nodded, eyes swimming. </p><p>“Yeah.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We’ll get back to present-day Peter and Wade next chapter, and just how the two of them deal with Peter’s revelation, as well as some of Wade’s own. </p><p>Love y’all!! Your kudos and comments are the sweetest and I’m so happy to be sharing this with you. ❤️❤️❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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